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Culture citizenship, to the extent that such a thing really exists with any degree of formality, would be yours by assumption. Your many admirers, among whose number I count myself, would long ago have made it yours by acclamation, if only that would not have seemed presumptuous.”
    Ziller nodded thoughtfully. Kabe wondered if this was a natural expression for a Chelgrian, or a learned, translated one. “Very flattering,” Ziller said. Kabe hadthe impression the creature was genuinely trying to sound gracious. “However, I am still Chelgrian. Not quite naturalized yet.”
    â€œOf course. Your presence is trophy enough. To declare this your home would be—”.
    â€œExcessive,” Ziller said pointedly. The drone’s aura field flushed a sort of muddy cream color to indicate embarrassment, though a few flecks of red indicated it was hardly acute.
    Kabe cleared his throat. The drone turned to him.
    â€œTersono,” the Homomdan said. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, but may I just ask whether, in all this, you are talking as a representative of Contact?”.
    â€œOf course you may. Yes, I am speaking on behalf of the Contact section. And with the full co-operation of Masaq’ Hub.”
    â€œI am not without friends, admirers,” Ziller said suddenly, staring at the drone.
    â€œWithout?” Tersono said, field glowing a ruddy orange. “Why, as I say, you have almost nothing but—”.
    â€œI mean among some of your Minds; your ships, Tersono the Contact drone,” Ziller said coldly. The machine rocked back in its chair. A little melodramatic, thought Kabe. Ziller went on, “I might well be able to persuade one of them to accommodate me and provide me with my own private cruise. One which this emissary might find much more difficult to intrude upon.”
    The drone’s aura lapsed back to purple. It wobbled minutely in the chair. “You are welcome to try, my dear Ziller. However, that might be taken as a terrible insult.”
    â€œFuck them.”
    â€œYes, well. But I meant by us. A terrible insult onour part. An insult so terrible that in the very sad and regrettable circumstances—”.
    â€œOh, spare me.” Ziller looked away.
    Ah yes, the war, thought Kabe. And the responsibility for it. Contact would regard this as all very delicate.
    The drone, misted in purple, went quiet for a moment. Kabe shifted on his cushions. “The point is,” Tersono continued, “that even the most willful and, ah, characterful of ships might not accede to the sort of request you have indicated you might make. In fact I’d wager quite heavily on it that they wouldn’t.”
    Ziller chewed some more on his pipe. It had gone out. “Which means that Contact has already fixed this, doesn’t it?”.
    Tersono wobbled again. “Let’s just say that the wind has been tested.”
    â€œYes, let’s. Of course, this is always assuming that none of your ship Minds were lying.”
    â€œOh, they never lie. They dissemble, evade, prevaricate, confound, confuse, distract, obscure, subtly misrepresent and willfully misunderstand with what often appears to be a positively gleeful relish and are generally perfectly capable of contriving to give one an utterly unambiguous impression of their future course of action while in fact intending to do exactly the opposite, but they never lie. Perish the thought.”
    Ziller did a good stare, Kabe decided. He was quite glad that those big, dark eyes were not directed at him. Though, certainly, the drone seemed impervious.
    â€œI see,” the composer said. “Well then, I suppose I might as well just stay put. I imagine I could just refuse to leave my apartment.”
    â€œWhy, of course. Not very dignified, perhaps, but that would be your prerogative.”
    â€œQuite. But if I’m given no choice don’t expect me to be welcoming, or even